


Just One Yesterday

by DarthAbby



Series: Dressed to Kill, Shoot for Fame [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Tattoos, gang wars (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAbby/pseuds/DarthAbby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was sweat and blood and ink and gunpowder and oil stains. He used to try and think of something else, of anything other than her, but that was months ago.</p>
<p>Psuedo-character study of my GTA V AU!Geoff and Griffon</p>
<p>Some spoilers for later chapters of 'Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by 'Just One Yesterday' by Fall Out Boy, ft. Foxes

She was sweat and blood and ink and gunpowder and oil stains. The tattoos on her skin were obscured by grease smears more often than not, creating new and ever-changing images to ponder over in the quiet moments of dusk and dawn. He used to try and think of something else, of anything other than her, but that was months ago. She occupied his mind without conscious effort; his mind was going to dwell on her anyways, might as well enjoy it instead of pushing her away with more booze and cigarettes or other women. It always came back to her, anyways.

His mind would flash back to their first meeting, an accidental run-in during two separate jobs. They had been running in opposite directions, and she passed him, she grinned and passed over two sticky bombs, even as he tossed her a full clip of bullets. They had heard each other shouting at their respective teams as they ran, trying to find a new angle on the plan with her out of ammunition and him having been forced to use his last bomb on a police car to get away.

Later, when his crew asked where he had found the extra explosives, he told them to shut up and stop asking stupid questions. The job had been a success, hadn’t it? That was all that mattered.

He didn’t know then that one of his boys had run into one of her girls, that there had been a brief scuffle between the two, using up precious seconds of cover that had forced him to use his last bomb, had forced her to use her last round. He didn’t mention the other team working in their area, and neither did the rest of them, though it was painfully obvious that these newbies were encroaching on their territory. But they kept quiet, if only because for as much of a nuisance these girls were, they were twice the headache for the other major crew that controlled the city, the crew he was always trying to wrench control away from.

His mind would briefly skim over the second, third, fourth meetings. The fifth meeting was an exceedingly uncomfortable planned meeting between them and an informant. Confidence seemed to practically shine out her, and he had tried to not let it affect him. He would be lying if he tried to deny how incredible she looked during the almost-interrogation, though. And she would probably laugh and point out that he lied for a living practically, how would this be any different? And he wouldn’t be able to think of a suitable answer.

There were plenty more meetings after that. (23, but who was counting? Not him, certainly.) Planning, organizing, bickering, trying to keep their two hotheads from strangling each other. It seemed loud, messy, and impractical, but at the heart of the chaos, they would be bent over a map, quietly discussing where to put _this_ car bomb, which rooftop had a better angle for _this_ sniper, while the other should be over _there,_ and an ever-growing list of risk factors. She had a ruthlessness in the street that made her fierce, and a mother bear-like love for her crew that made her even more dangerous, and he was in awe of her. He tried to tell her one time, late in the night when most of the others had passed out or gone home, and she laughed. Told him that he dove into things headfirst like a ram during mating season, but she admired his dedication to his team, teasingly saying that if she was Momma Bear, he must be Papa, and good thing, too – all these reckless cubs running around were enough to drive any one person mad.

He smiled, and they talked through the night, exchanging stories and comparing ink and scars. She was lovely, she was dangerous, she was brilliant, she was lethal, and he was completely and utterly screwed.


End file.
